


with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground

by cottonclouds



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Biting, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Coming Untouched, Crying, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominant Richie Tozier, Drastic Overuse of Pet Names, Finger Sucking (brief/mentioned), Hair-pulling, Knotting, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outdoor Sex, Porn With Plot, Spit Kink, Submissive Eddie Kaspbrak, The Dom Top Richie Renaissance, Top Richie Tozier, Werewolf Richie Tozier, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottonclouds/pseuds/cottonclouds
Summary: And that’s the end of it. Except it really isn’t, because forsomeGod-forsaken reason, Eddie can’t seem to stop thinking about having sex with Richie while he’s in his wolf form. Which is bad enough by itself, but it’s made worse by the fact that Eddie can’t seem to stop thinking about itat all, ever. He definitely tries, because he’s already distracted enough in his day-to-day life by thoughts about Richie; Richie holding him, Richie kissing him, Richie fucking him, Richie, Richie, Richie.But he gets exasperatingly stuck on this single train of thought, and he can’t seem to wave it out of his head no matter how hard he tries.—Eddie wants to have sex with Richie while he's shifted. Richie, ever the doting boyfriend, is more than happy to comply.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 139
Collections: Monster Reddie





	with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](https://shortcqke.tumblr.com/post/632453580970999808/with-bloodied-feet-across-the-hallowed-ground-it)
> 
> happy halloween! 🎃 so glad i managed to finish this in time for that.
> 
> special shoutout to my friend, sonny (@hotcocoalover on tumblr, give him a follow!!) for being my hype man while i wrote this. ily, sonny, you're an amazing friend! <3
> 
> title comes from the song "howl" by florence + the machine!

The first time Eddie sees Richie in his wolf form, he is, reasonably, scared shitless.

It doesn’t really have anything to do with the fact that Richie is a werewolf, because Eddie would say he’s more bothered by the fact that Richie doesn’t always wash his hands after he uses the bathroom than he is by the fact that he has the ability to transform into a wolf. It _does_ , however, have everything to do with the fact that Richie has apparently decided the best time to introduce Eddie to said ability is not only while he’s by himself, but in the late evening, hopping down into the clubhouse in the low light of the setting sun. Eddie startles, expectedly, frisbeeing his calculus textbook at the wolf in a knee-jerk reaction to a wild animal being in the very tiny, _very_ secluded clubhouse with him, upending the hammock in his panic. He hits the floor with a resounding _thump_ , cracking his forehead painfully against the clubhouse’s wooden slat floor.

“Ow,” Eddie mumbles to himself, rubbing at his sore forehead.

Behind him, the wolf gives a pitiful little whimper, almost like it’s upset Eddie got hurt. _It’s a fucking_ wolf _, Eddie. It’s a wild animal, and you think it’s capable of complex thought now,_ he thinks to himself, throwing an arm out for his backpack, unzipping it and grappling around for the glittery pink bottle of pepper spray Richie gifted him last Christmas. Once he finally manages to find it, he rolls over onto his back, holding the bottle out at the wolf with his finger over the nozzle—threatening, but not acting. Mostly because the wolf...isn’t really doing much of anything, other than sitting patiently by the still-open hatch with its paw resting on top of the textbook Eddie threw at it, wagging its tail like an oversized puppy.

“Um,” he tries.

The wolf watches him curiously, head tipped to one side. Eddie definitely feels like an idiot for even taking the time to consider it, but it almost seems as if the wolf is listening to what he has to say, watching him with rapt attention. “Um,” he repeats, worrying at his lower lip. “Could you, uh, like. Would you mind leaving?”

 _Eddie. This is a wolf,_ he thinks.

The wolf doesn’t bother moving, but it does continue watching Eddie with sharp eyes, tilting its head to the opposite side. If it were human, Eddie thinks it would be laughing at him right about now. “You know, through the hatch,” he continues, making a vague motion with his hands in the direction of the clubhouse roof. The wolf parses a careful glance between Eddie and the open hatch, and he nods emphatically, like the wolf will actually understand the gesture. “Yeah, through there.”

This time, the wolf _does_ move, but not toward the hatch—no, of course not, not with the kind of luck Eddie has. This time, it comes trotting happily over to him, dropping by his side and licking at his thigh like an affectionate housepet. And, because his brain has apparently stopped working altogether, Eddie finds himself setting the pepper spray down next to him and reaching over to scratch behind the wolf’s ears, scraping his neatly trimmed nails over the base of them. The wolf makes an appreciative sound, leaning into Eddie’s touch and wagging its tail cheerfully. “Huh,” he says, rubbing his thumbs softly over the tips of its ears. “I don’t remember wolves being this nice.”

The wolf trills cheerily, hopping up onto Eddie’s thighs and—horrifyingly enough—licking into his mouth. “Oh, gross!” he shouts, wiping at his tongue with the collar of his shirt while the wolf sits patiently by his side, panting and wagging its tail. Eddie continues, “No, dude, that was literally so gross, you don’t even know,” not only as if the wolf is actually listening to him, but as if it genuinely understands the things he’s saying. Though, who knows; if a demon clown isn’t out of the realm of possibility, a wolf understanding human speech probably isn’t, either.

And it does seem to be listening carefully, if nothing else—watching Eddie with intent, head tilted curiously to the side again. This is the first time he’s really getting a good look at it, too, finding that it seems to be roughly triple the size of a Great Dane with wiry black fur and incongruent eyes. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever encountered a _wolf_ with heterochromia, but here sits one, with one blue eye and one brown eye.

Huh.

Come to think of it, the wolf sort of reminds him of Richie. Eddie knows that it’s a thought completely out of left field, since most _normal_ people aren’t reminded of their boyfriends when they get cornered by a random wolf, but, well—this particular random wolf _does_ remind Eddie of his boyfriend. It has the same misplaced enthusiasm, the same wild black hair (well, fur, in this case), and even the same colored eyes. Like, exactly the same. Hm.

“Richie?” Eddie asks, like an idiot.

Except...the wolf gets remarkably excited, jumping up onto Eddie’s shoulders and knocking him backward. He lands against the wooden slats with an _oof_ , and the wolf tries licking into his mouth again, with double the enthusiasm this time. “We talked about this!” Eddie yells, swatting blindly in the wolf’s direction. It does stop trying to lick into his mouth, but it doesn’t concern itself with moving off of him, staying planted firmly on top of his chest. Eddie reaches his hand up, scratching his manicured nails against the base of its scalp. “Richie,” he repeats, less a question this time and more a soft affirmation.

The wolf gives a happy little _awoo_ , nosing affectionately at Eddie’s cheek with its snout. “No licking,” he says, and the wolf makes another sound. If Eddie were to guess, he’d say it was a sound of disagreement. “No, Richie, I don’t want to be licked.”

The wolf—well, Richie, Eddie supposes he can say—makes a sound similar to the last one, but louder this time, nosing harder at Eddie’s cheek. “That’s final, Richie,” he continues, tone stern, still scraping his nails against the base of wolf-Richie’s skull the same way he knows human-Richie likes. Richie makes another unhappy-sounding noise, but he does not, in fact, lick Eddie. In thanks, Eddie keeps scratching at Richie’s head, glancing up at the still-open hatch while he does and noticing that it’s gotten considerably darker outside. He double-checks his watch, finding the bright red numbers blinking _11:10 p.m._ back at him. “It’s good I told ma I was sleeping over at Bill’s tonight, or she’d be pissed at me. C’mon, Rich, let me get up so I can go close the hatch.”

Surprisingly, Richie complies, rolling off of Eddie and letting him stand. He walks to the hatch and tugs it shut, making sure to lock it before turning back to Richie. “I’m going to lay a blanket down, because there’s no way you’re fitting in the hammock. You barely fit in it when you’re in human form,” Eddie says, crossing the room to the chest Ben dragged down to the clubhouse, tugging out two blankets and a pillow. He lays the pillow and one of the blankets down on the floor, kicking his shoes off and sitting down, tugging the second blanket over himself. Deciding to grab a pillow turns out to have been absolutely useless, because Richie knocks it out of the way immediately, curling at the head of the blanket—clearly intending for Eddie to lay on _him_.

Eddie purses his lips. Richie gives him what could aptly be called puppy-dog eyes.

“Ugh. Okay, fine,” Eddie concedes, laying his head down on Richie’s back and tugging the blanket up over his shoulders. He pats Richie’s snout lovingly, yawning. “Good wolf.”

When Eddie wakes up next, it’s to the sun shining directly in his eyes.

He groans, holding his hand up in a futile attempt to block it out. It doesn’t work, of course, so he blinks the sleep from his eyes and squints to check his watch, the irritatingly bright red numbers blinking _7:00 a.m._ back at him. “Too early,” he mumbles sleepily, curling his legs closer to his chest and pulling the scratchy plaid blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Above him, someone groans. He goes stiff as a board, fingernails digging nervously into the palms of his hands, hard enough to bleed. “What time is it, Eds?” the person asks, and in his sleep-addled mind, Eddie does _not_ take the time to process that it’s just Richie. Instead, he shrieks, flinging himself backward and bringing the blanket with him, tangling himself up in a jumble of limbs and fabric. “Jesus Christ, Eddie!”

It takes at least two minutes for Eddie to successfully untangle himself from the blanket, tossing it aside and sitting up once he finally does, breathless. “No, Jesus Christ _you_ , Richie! What the fuck are you doing here?!” he shouts, throwing his hands up angrily, not quite yet having processed the fact that he learned just yesterday that Richie is technically a werewolf, which means he has to change back to his human form at _some_ point.

“What do you mean, “what the fuck am I doing here”?” Richie asks, sitting up and grabbing the end of the second blanket, folding it over his lap. Now that he’s a little more awake, Eddie finally notices that Richie is completely, one-hundred percent, stark fucking _naked_. Eddie flushes from his neck to the tips of his ears, turning his eyes away in embarrassment, as if he hasn’t seen Richie naked more times than he can count on both hands. As if they don’t have sex at least once a day, not only because they’re both absolutely insatiable, but because if they don’t, Eddie gets whiny and Richie acts like a dick (moreso than usual, of course, on both accords). “Do you _not_ remember the whole, “I can turn into a wolf” thing, or was I the only one here while you were petting my wolf form and talking to him like a domesticated puppy?” and, naturally, Richie is laughing by the end of the sentence, so Eddie crawls over to him and pinches his nipple as hard as he can in retaliation.

“For fuck’s sake, Eddie, you’re going to tear my fucking nipple off!” Richie yelps, swatting Eddie’s hand away from his chest.

“Then don’t make fun of me!” Eddie replies shrilly. “You know what? I miss your wolf form. He was ten times cuter than you, but most importantly, he couldn’t talk at _all_.”

Richie pinches Eddie’s arm. “You’re such a little turd, sometimes,” he responds, but he laughs when he says it, leaning forward to kiss the crown of Eddie’s head.

And that’s the end of it.

Except it really isn’t, because for _some_ God-forsaken reason, Eddie can’t seem to stop thinking about having sex with Richie while he’s in his wolf form. Which is bad enough by itself, but it’s made worse by the fact that Eddie can’t seem to stop thinking about it _at all_ , ever. He definitely tries, because he’s already distracted enough in his day-to-day life by thoughts about Richie; Richie holding him, Richie kissing him, Richie fucking him, Richie, Richie, _Richie_. But he gets exasperatingly stuck on this single train of thought, and he can’t seem to wave it out of his head no matter how hard he tries.

He thinks about it while they’re having normal sex (well, normal for them, of course) and Richie pins him to the mattress with one big palm spread across the back of his head, leant over Eddie to hiss in his ear, “Good puppy, good boy, so tight for me,” while he puffs out soft breaths and drools onto Richie’s freshly-washed sheets, accepting Richie’s fingers into his mouth when they’re pressed against his swollen pink lips. He thinks about it while they’re out for lunch with the other Losers, sharing a basket of fries, holding one to his semi-open mouth until Beverly taps his shoulder and asks, “Are you going to eat that or what, Eds?” He thinks about it, mortifyingly enough, while he’s at the dinner table with his mother, rubbing his thighs together underneath the table while he pushes the veggies on his plate around instead of eating them.

It doesn’t take Richie very long to notice that something is wrong with Eddie, because Richie is Richie, and he’s always been able to read people— _especially_ Eddie—like a book. It's always been that way, something vaguely uncanny about the way he can just take one look at his boyfriend and know something is going on with him. Sometimes, Richie can pick out when something is wrong with Eddie before Eddie even has the chance to himself.

“Hey, Eds?” he asks one afternoon, hanging upside down on his bed with a comic book while Eddie reads a romance novel, curled up on the beanbag chair across from him.

“Hmm?” Eddie hums, quietly flipping his book to the next page.

“Do you want to break up with me?”

Eddie startles like he’d been hit, dropping his book. “ _What_?” he asks, wide-eyed and scared.

“Yeah,” Richie replies, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Do you want to break up with me? It’s okay if you do, you don’t have to, like—spare my feelings, or anything. If that’s what you’ve been trying to do.”

Eddie blinks. “Rich, honey, _what_ are you talking about?” he asks. “Why would I want to break up with you? What made you think that?”

Richie, now sitting up, shrugs with one shoulder. “I don’t know, you’ve been acting sort of, like—weird, lately, I guess? Distant, maybe? And I thought you might be trying to figure out how to break up with me without hurting my feelings, so I wanted to tell you that it’s totally cool if you want to break up. I don’t mind.”

Eddie flushes pink, partially because he’s floored that Richie thinks he wants to _break up with him_ and partially because he can’t believe that Richie Tozier, king of untimely, inappropriate, and unwanted _your mom_ jokes hasn’t figured out that Eddie has been being so weird because of a sex thing. “I don’t want to break up with you, Rich,” he says carefully. “I love you.”

Richie breathes an obvious sigh of relief, relaxing against his headboard. “Oh, thank fucking God. Eds, I love you so much it’s fucking unreal, okay, I would literally both kill and die for you without hesitation,” he says, finally looking up at Eddie from where he’d been fiddling with a loose string on his bedsheets. “Wait, why are you all pink?”

Eddie flushes darker, scratching at the back of his neck. “Um,” he says quietly.

“Oh my god!” Richie shouts, jumping up from his bed and crossing the room to Eddie, plopping down onto the floor next to the beanbag. “Oh my God, you’ve been being all weird because of a sex thing, haven’t you? I can’t believe I misread that so bad, holy shit,” he laughs.

“It’s not funny,” Eddie grumbles.

“I don’t know, dude, it’s a little funny,” Richie replies. “What is it? What’s the thing?”

“None of your business,” Eddie says.

“It is _so_ my business, Eds. It will _always_ be my business,” Richie insists. “Tell me, come on. If you do, maybe you can _come_ on, if you know what I mean,” he says, making a lewd gesture with his hands and waggling his eyebrows at Eddie.

“Actually, you were right. I do want to break up with you. You’re disgusting,” Eddie replies, kicking his foot out in an attempt to boot Richie’s leg.

Richie catches his ankle before he can make contact, pressing a soft kiss to the bone there. “I’m serious, Eddie spaghetti, you can tell me. I’ll still love you, you know?”

“Oh, I know, I’m the best you’re ever gonna get,” Eddie responds snarkily.

“Yowza! Spagheds gets off with a good one!” Richie cheers, tugging Eddie forward by his ankle and into his arms, kissing the crown of his head once he’s sat in his lap. “Come on, Eddie my love, spill the beans.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hums. “Only if you stop calling me spagheds.”

Richie taps his lip like he’s considering. “A hard vice to give up,” he says. “I’ll try.”

“I’ll accept it,” Eddie replies, taking a breath in through his nose and letting it out through his mouth. “I want you to fuck me in your wolf form,” he ends up saying, all strung together like one big word and more than likely incomprehensible.

Richie looks like he might understand, though, eyes wide behind his glasses. “You—you want me to—could you repeat that, please?”

“You understood me!” Eddie shouts, indignant.

“Only kind of,” Richie says earnestly. “Like, I think you said something about my wolf form? But I didn’t hear much else.”

“I said,” Eddie starts, slow, breathing in hard and gritting his teeth. “I want you to, um—only if you want to, but—fuck me in your wolf form. Maybe? Possibly. Probably. Okay, nevermind, this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever asked you.”

Richie snorts a laugh. “I’ve been asked weirder things,” he replies, and Eddie _almost_ wants to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about, but he doesn’t bother because he doesn’t think he actually wants to know the answer. “Sure, baby, I’ll fuck you in my wolf form if that’s what you want. But you know, I’m a lot, um—bigger, in that form,” he says, making a vague motion to his dick, as though Eddie doesn’t understand what he means.

Eddie flushes from his neck to the tips of his ears. “Yes, I figured!” he shouts, voice cracking over the words. “Do you—okay, I’ve been doing research, so don’t look at me weird when I ask this—do you have a knot?”

Richie gives him a shit-eating grin, but Eddie can still tell he’s slightly taken off guard, eyes wide behind his frames. “Oh, you’re gagging for it, aren’t you, baby boy?” he asks, and Eddie makes a noise akin to a tea kettle, shifting awkwardly in his lap. “Yeah, I do, if you want it.”

“I do!” Eddie blurts out, a little more enthusiastic than he’d meant to be. “But we have to—you know, we have to be—we have to be ready, and—prepare—and—” he stutters.

Richie thumbs softly at the bone beneath Eddie’s eye, smiling kindly. “Stop worrying yourself so much, baby,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.”

Except Richie doesn’t _take care of it_ until a few nights later, and by then, Eddie has assumed he’s forgotten about the entire thing. He’s a bit disappointed, of course, but it isn’t like it’s a dealbreaker or anything; if Richie doesn’t want to have sex with Eddie while he’s shifted, he certainly isn’t going to break up with him over it. But, on Friday night, four days after they’d talked about it, Eddie packs up and comes over to Richie’s house for the weekend (under the guise of staying over at Bill’s for a weekend-long study session, because his mother actually _likes_ Bill, unlike the rest of the Losers— _especially_ Richie) and finds him waiting by the front door to take Eddie’s coat and shoes for him.

“You’re being awfully sweet,” Eddie comments offhandedly, kicking his pink running shoes off and handing them over to Richie.

“What, is it a capital crime to be sweet to my boyfriend now?” Richie quips in reply, setting Eddie’s shoes down on the wooden shoe rack by the front door aside a pair of Maggie Tozier’s sharp high heels. “My parents are gone for the weekend. Something about a dental convention in Pennsylvania? I don’t know, but mom _definitely_ didn’t want to go.”

Eddie arches a curious brow. “Is “my parents are gone for the weekend” code for something, Richard?”

Richie winks, lewdly grabbing at himself. “Only if you want it to be, baby.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re disgusting,” he offers curtly, brushing past Richie to sit on the tan armchair tucked into the furthest corner of the Tozier’s living room, kicking the footstool away in favor of curling his feet underneath himself. Richie follows after a few seconds, lifting Eddie from the chair with one hand like he weighs nothing at all, depositing him back into his lap once he’s arranged his gangly limbs into a comfortable position. Eddie grumbles a complaint under his breath but makes no move to leave, wrapping his arms around Richie’s middle and tucking his head up underneath his boyfriend’s chin.

“My parents are gone for the weekend,” Richie repeats once they’ve settled into the movie _Misery_ , airing on one of the specialty movie channels Eddie’s mother wouldn’t even _dream_ of paying for at the Kaspbrak residence.

“Mm,” Eddie hums in acknowledgement, quietly watching Annie Wilkes break Paul Sheldon’s knees. “As we’ve established.”

“So, if you wanted to, I don’t know…” Richie trails off, making a vague motion with his hands that Eddie doesn’t understand one bit. “Have steamy werewolf sex, I’d be up for that.”

“Do you _have_ to say it like that?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, absolutely,” Richie replies.

“You’re so gross,” Eddie berates, but he still slides out of Richie’s lap to stand, stretching his arms above his head. “Where are we going to...you know?”

Richie stands, too, flicking the TV off and sliding the remote onto the coffee table. “What, have steamy werewolf sex?” he asks, goading. Eddie crinkles his nose up. “My suggestion was going to be outside, but, you know—germs and all.”

Eddie shuffles his feet, flushing pink. “Well, outside does make the most sense, I guess.”

Richie sweeps Eddie up in his arms over-dramatically. “Outside!” he shrieks, pitching his voice a few octaves higher in a clear attempt to mimic Eddie’s own. “You want to have sex _outside_ , with all of the pesky germs and the wild animals—”

Eddie squirms in Richie’s hold, frowning. “If you’re going to be a dick, Richie—!”

“I’m sorry, babylove,” Richie soothes, setting Eddie back on his feet. “I’m just trying to loosen you up before the big show. You seem a little tense.”

“I’m not tense,” Eddie gripes, betrayed by his taut shoulders and the deep, embarrassed flush across the soft span of his freckled cheeks.

Eddie gives a sulky little pout when Richie cracks a grin at him, laying his palm across the small of Eddie’s back and swooping down to press a kiss to the crown of his head. “Are too,” he barbs sweetly, steering Eddie to the back door before he has the chance to argue again. Richie opens the door and Eddie clicks it shut behind them, triple-checking that it isn’t locked (because God knows how embarrassing it would be to have to slink over to one of the other Loser’s houses because they got locked out over yet another _Weird Sex Thing_ ). The yard is lit only by a dim porchlight hanging above the back door, but the light stretches far enough for Eddie to see that Richie at least had enough foresight to lay a blanket out.

“Is this really the only blanket you could find?” Eddie asks, making his way over to the scratchy patchwork quilt he vividly remembers sharing with Beverly at sleepovers when they were kids; the one that Maggie would root from the back of the hallway closet when they complained of being cold in the middle of the night, despite the sweltering summer heat.

“Well, what did you _want_ me to do? Drag my _Star Wars_ comforter down here? That shit’s expensive, Eddie,” Richie replies, trailing closely behind him.

Eddie rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother complaining any further, kneeling on the quilt and folding his arms together at the edge of it, pillowing his head against them. Richie drops to the ground by his feet rather unceremoniously, tugging Eddie’s shorts down over his thighs with absolutely no warning once he’s gotten himself situated. “Jesus, Rich!” Eddie hisses, the early-fall air raising goosebumps on his skin. “Could you maybe _warn_ me next time?”

“Nope,” Richie responds, popping the ‘p’. Eddie grumbles a quiet complaint while Richie grabs the bottle of lube from where he’d tucked it under a corner of the blanket, clicking the cap open and pouring himself a decent handful, warming it by pressing his palms together.

“You’re a dick,” Eddie admonishes.

“Oh, you haven’t seen _anything_ yet, babylove,” Richie returns snidely, offering Eddie a sharp grin before pushing two fingers into him with no preamble. Eddie _shouts_ , the sound tearing out of him from the very bottom of his stomach. It doesn’t necessarily hurt—Eddie would liken it more to pressing at a fresh bruise—but it is, at the very least, awfully unexpected. “Yeah? You like that, Eddie-baby? Does it feel good?”

“Shut _up_ , Richie,” Eddie huffs, perpetually annoyed by Richie Tozier’s incessant need to _talk talk talk_ ; especially during sex, of all things. In retaliation, Richie curls his fingers upward and feels around until he hits Eddie’s prostate dead-on, making his thighs shake and his back arch, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the quilt’s crochet holes. “Richie, Richie, _Rich, baby_ —fuck, _ah_ —you’re gonna make me come, you fucking asshole!”

“Mm,” Richie hums in quiet acknowledgement, pressing harder at Eddie’s prostate and reaching under him to slide a big, warm palm across his lower stomach. _Not quite. Not quite._ “Then come, Eddie.”

“No!” Eddie argues. “I’m not— _oh_ —fuck, no, you dick!”

“Is that any way to talk to your loving, doting boyfriend, Eddie-doll?”

“Richie, _please_!” Eddie cries in frustration, tears beading on his lashline. “ _Please_ touch me, _please, please_ —you know it’s not enough!”

Richie smiles placidly. “I know it’s not enough, baby boy,” he says simply, like it’s nothing but a cold fact. “And that’s why you better come for me, because if you don’t, I won’t fuck you.”

“Richie,” Eddie whines miserably, the tears from his lashes finally falling over his freckled cheeks and quietly to his folded arms. “Richie, Richie—”

Richie slides a third finger in, curving all three upward to press cruelly against Eddie’s abused prostate, smoothing his too-warm palm over Eddie’s stomach. “Come for me, Eddie.”

And Eddie, with no choice but to comply, _does_ come; shaking through his orgasm with wracking sobs, his come splattering sticky over Richie’s fingers and the patchwork quilt folded neatly beneath them. Once Eddie finally feels like he can breathe again, the sound whistling through his chest with a ragged edge, he says, hoarse and annoyed, “Fuck you, Richie.”

Richie laughs good-naturedly. “No, fuck _you_ , my dear,” he replies, kissing the flare of Eddie’s hips, mouthing comfortingly at the jut of his hipbone. “That’s the point of this whole thing, isn’t it, Eddie my love? For me to fuck you?”

Eddie doesn’t give much of an answer apart from whining lowly, turning his face down into the welcoming darkness provided by the clutch of his arms. Richie doesn’t let it slide, jerking Eddie up by the back of his hair, fingers tucked into the coil of curls at the bottom of his neck. “Use your words or I won’t fuck you at all, Eddie,” Richie chastises, cruel and sharp.

“I—I want,” Eddie splutters, more tears beading on his lashes and falling over his warm, freckled cheeks, dripping down his folded arms. “I w—want you to fu—uck me, Richie, _please_.”

“Sweet boy,” Richie praises, sliding a fourth finger into Eddie and spreading them apart. Eddie kicks his foot out involuntarily, whimpering in oversensitivity. But he doesn’t dare to complain any further, letting Richie fuck his fingers in and out of his hole carefully, stretching him as thoroughly as possible—because Richie is _big_ in human form, but he has to be at least triple that size in wolf form, and the last thing Eddie wants to do is show up at the ER with a tear in his asshole because his wolf boyfriend fucked him without enough prep.

“Faster,” Eddie whines once he’s gotten used to the feeling again, pounding his fist petulantly against the ground.

Richie snorts a tinny laugh. “You don’t make the rules here, puppy,” he berates, and then, before Eddie even has the chance to brace himself, Richie hocks up a wad of saliva and spits it directly into Eddie’s open hole. Eddie startles and gives a compulsory moan at the feeling, hooking his fingers into the holes of the crochet quilt. “Aw, did that feel good, baby boy?”

“‘S gross,” Eddie sniffles.

“Uh-huh, gross,” Richie says on a chuckle, pushing his spit into Eddie’s open hole. “You think you’re ready for me to fuck you, Eds?”

Eddie makes an irritated noise. “Been ready,” he grumbles.

Richie slides his fingers out, swatting at Eddie’s thigh hard enough to leave a palm-shaped red mark that will undoubtedly turn into a purpling bruise. “Don’t smart-mouth me unless you want to be punished, puppy dog,” Richie berates, standing on his knees and shuffling over to Eddie, draping himself over his back and starting to push in slowly. It doesn’t take very long for Eddie to adjust to the stretch, loose and pliable after one orgasm and four fingers, but that doesn’t mean Richie speeds up his pace—if anything, he goes slower.

“Rich, come _on_ , fuck me,” Eddie fusses, reaching his hand back to urge Richie forward, only to have Richie pin Eddie’s arm against his back, sliding into him fully with absolutely no warning or preamble. It doesn’t hurt, not with all of the careful prep Richie did, but Eddie startles all the same—suddenly so _full_ , stretched to the brim, Richie draped over his back with one big palm spread punishingly across the back of his skull. “Oh— _oh_ , fuck, Rich, fuck—”

“Is that what you wanted, Eddie?” Richie crows snidely, snapping his hips cruelly against Eddie’s, their skin slapping together noisily, sliding together with the slick from lube and sweat and spit. “You wanted me to _fuck you_ , huh, puppy?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Eddie chants, pushing his hips back against Richie’s best he can with the firm hold on his hair and Richie spread over him like a blanket. “Yes, Richie, hah—”

“Don’t come,” Richie warns firmly, and Eddie nods blindly, tears and drool dripping onto the scratchy quilt pressed firmly to his cheek. “If you come, I’m stopping.”

“I won’t, Richie, I won’t come,” Eddie promises, hiccupping his way through the words.

“I know you won’t, because you’re a good boy, huh?” Richie asks, gripping the sweat-curled strands of Eddie’s soft brown hair with a rough, cruel hand and turning his head upward, in the direction of the full moon hanging bright in the sky above them. “Howl for me, puppy.”

“Richie—”

“ _Howl._ ”

Eddie does as he’s told, turning his baby browns up to the soft glow of the moon and opening his mouth to let out a few tiny _awoos_ , breathless and subaudible. Richie tightens his hand in Eddie’s hair, fingers curling doubly tight around the sweat-slicked strands—a silent warning, but a warning, nonetheless—and Eddie shelves his embarrassment about being _outside_ , dropping his mouth open and howling to the moon as loud as he can manage. “Good boy,” Richie praises, sliding his hand from the base of Eddie’s skull to his upper back, splaying one big palm across the span of his shoulder blades. And, before Eddie even has the chance to breathe a sigh of relief as the pinpricking pain spread over the back of his head subsides, Richie’s warm, calloused palm turns quickly to a padded paw, the sharp nails of his wolf form biting cruel marks into the soft, tan skin of Eddie’s back.

“Richie,” Eddie huffs quietly, knowing he won’t be offered a verbal response—and he isn’t, of course, his given reply instead being Richie, fully shifted and triple-sized, draping himself warm and steady over Eddie’s back, nosing at his cheek comfortingly. “Ah—hah—fuck,” Eddie gasps, fingers tightening in the quilt’s crochet holes at the feeling of Richie growing inside of him, hips slowing in what Eddie can only assume is a chance to let him adjust.

Eddie bends an arm behind his back, petting a shaky hand over Richie’s wiry fur. “‘S okay, Rich, go,” he reassures, and Richie licks at the side of Eddie’s face before snapping his hips forward, resuming his punishing pace. Eddie doesn’t even bother to berate Richie for licking him, too busy tightening his fingers in his fur and bracing the other against the ground, involuntarily pushing his nails through the quilt’s holes and into the dirt underneath. “Hah— _fuck_ , fu—uck, Richie, Rich, baby, so good,” Eddie babbles nonsensically, back arching, pushing his hips up and back in a weak attempt to meet Richie’s harsh thrusts forward, tears beading on his lashes and pouring down over his freckled, pink-stained cheeks.

“Gonna come, Rich, gonna—” Eddie stutters out, and when Richie sinks his serrated knife-teeth softly into the delicate skin at the back of his neck, Eddie does, re-wetting the previously dried come splattered across his stomach and over the scratchy quilt. Richie doesn’t let up, even as Eddie shakes and cries through his orgasm, tears and drool flowing down his face and wetting the fabric underneath his head. No; instead, Richie fucks him through it, snapping his hips forward cruelly and fucking Eddie as hard as he can. Eddie sobs pitifully through it until Richie finally comes, too, his knot popping and locking them together—and Eddie comes a third time, dry.

Richie flips them onto their sides once Eddie’s breathing has slowed, nosing and licking at the back of his neck, his shoulders, his cheek, anywhere he can reach. Eddie swats at him weakly, pliant and fatigued. “No licking, Rich,” he mumbles tiredly, yawning, and before he has time to do much else, Eddie falls asleep.

When he finally wakes up, Eddie is no longer outside but in Richie’s room, clean and dressed in one of his boyfriend’s band tees, smelling of the bath products he’d so precariously packed. He sits up in Richie’s bed, sliding the covers to his waist and stretching his arms above his head, groaning when his shoulders crack painfully, probably from having been pinned to the ground for such a long time. “Geez, Eds, maybe you should see a doctor about that,” Richie comments, and Eddie nearly falls out of the bed, startled by Richie’s presence. Eddie hadn’t even realized he was in the _room_ , let alone in bed with him. “Christ, man, it’s just me!”

“You scared the _shit_ out of me, Rich!” Eddie hisses. “Also, “man”? Really? You just fucked the life out of me and you have the audacity to call me “man”?”

“Man, dude, bro. Homie. We’re just guys being dudes, Eddie spaghetti,” Richie grins.

“I literally fucking hate you,” Eddie replies, but he still settles back down, pulling Richie’s _Star Wars_ bedspread over them and cuddling back into his boyfriend’s embrace.

Richie kisses the crown of his head. “Uh-huh, of course,” he remarks. “I love you, Eddie-baby.”

Eddie grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, but he still replies, “Yeah, I love you, too, dumbass.”

**Author's Note:**

> the idea to have richie make eddie howl at the moon while they're having sex is courtesy of [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217666). : )
> 
> if you made it to the end of this fic, i'd really appreciate kudos and comments! and if you want to talk to me and/or send me asks about this fic (or my others!), you can find me on tumblr at [shortcake.tumblr.com](https://shortcqke.tumblr.com/) and on twitter (though i'm less active on there) at [@moonpeaarls](https://twitter.com/moonpeaarls). if you ever want to talk one on one, feel free to DM me for my discord on either of those. <3
> 
> p.s.; if i missed any tags, please tell me!


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